The Dedication in the Book
by cleverpunhere
Summary: As Brennan's latest book launch is underway, her team of family, friends, and squinterns search her book for their own portrayals, while Booth's interest remains rooted on the "Dedication Page".
1. Chapter 1

**The Dedication in the Book**

Brennan begged for an informal book party with friends over some Cabernet and Tequila, but her publisher wouldn't dream of it. The fifth novel from her _New York Times_ Best Selling Author deserved glitz and glamor, and as there were already talks of turning the latest novel into a film, tonight would be a celebration of the author and her talents as the world's leading forensic anthropologist.

She began to mix and mingle, never quite getting close to the ones she wanted to share tonight with the most, and Booth doubted Bones' anger at a sneak peek without her present. As Booth grabbed for a copy of the novel, Angela followed, and within five minutes every squintern and Sweets had a copy, with even Jared and Max having grabbed their copies. They counted down from ten, and opened the book, each searching for their own references. After a minute or two, Angela insisted they read the Author's Dedication as a whole, so they might congratulate anyone who had made it deep enough into Brennan's walls to earn her thanks and praise, and so they began.

_I would like to dedicate this book to the few people in my life _

_who have shown me that love, may indeed, be eternal. _

_Your open hearts, kind words, and patience over the last few years _

_have proven to me that there is, in fact, "more than one kind of family"..._

Booth's heart soared at Brennan's admission to the consideration of love's eternal nature. He had taken his time with her, proven to her over the course of seven years that there was a forever form of love, and that opening your heart to another did not always result in abandonment. He chanced a cocky grin as Hannah read the author's note over his shoulder, and proudly filed this moment away to tease Bones about at a later time. He continued reading, hoping for another one of their private memories to forever be immortalized on the pages of her literary soul...

_...and to the one person who proved that love, is indeed, ephemeral, I thank you for confirming my suspicions. Temperance "Bones" Brennan_

Booth let the hardcover fall to the marble ground, and as the crash resonated through the ballroom, all eyes were on him. Immediately pale and wracked with slight tremors, Hannah began breathlessly begging Booth to answer her...the only words reaching him were repetitious in nature, "are you okay?", "are you okay"... and it was all Booth could focus on as his eyes sought out the crystalline depths of hers from across the room. They connected, but only briefly, as she grabbed her purse and sauntered out the ballroom doors and into the night.

**A/N: **I couldn't decide if this should be a one shot, or if B&B needed a chance for confrontation/explanation... please let me know if you'd like to see more from this story, or if you think it's good where it is =)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Wow, wow, wow. Thank you all for the awesome response to the first chapter- I wrote it thinking it might be better as a one-shot, but you guys seem to want a continuation.. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

It was hot, too hot for optimal comfort, she thought, as she toyed with her earring. She had told Booth once that objects held no intrinsic power, but, even as she had spoken the words, she had found them to be a lie. Gently stroking her mother's long abandoned earrings had helped calm her for years, a practice she had begun almost two decades before. Following her parent's disappearance, Brennan would spend hours among their accumulated treasures. Dressed in her father's favorite tweed jacket, and surrounded by photos from her childhood, she would bury her face against her mother's pillow, which still carried her vanilla scent, and she would cry until she was hoarse.

When she was thrust into the foster system, armed with a single trash bag to transport fifteen years of possessions, she could only take the most significant. Her mother's perfume had been stolen within the first few days, and her father's copy of _Gray's Anatomy_ had been covered with lewd drawings, but she was able to keep both an unopened Christmas present, and her mother's cherished earrings, safe.

On a night like this, with a celebration in her honor, surrounded by strangers and expected social interactions, Brennan, in a private, anxiety ridden moment, stroked her mother's earring, wondering what she would do.

_If I were to follow her example, _Brennan thought, _I should leave, without a word. Simply disappear into the night..._ and, while she knew it wasn't the right choice, she scanned the room for those that would be the most disappointed at her early departure.

As she connected eyes with Booth, and her internal temperature rose even higher, she silently begged for his forgiveness as she grabbed her purse and pushed open the heavy brass door, welcoming the chill of the autumn evening as she fled the overcrowded ballroom.

**A/N **(part II)**:** This chapter was mostly filler, but I should have the actual confrontation/explanation in the next few days (I just thought it might be nice to remember why Brennan does some of the things she does, and how her behavior has always been influenced by the people that she's closest to). Please let me know if you think it's worth continuing, or, if we should all pretend that this was still just a one-shot.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **At the risk of being redundant.. wow, wow, wow. You guys have all been so supportive, and it's given me such encouragement for this story.

I would like to thank **NatesMama** for allowing me to rant/ramble about where to take this, and **RositaLG** for inspiring a turn in this story that none of you will see coming!

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For all of Hannah's begging and pleading, all it took was Brennan's exit to stir Booth from his trance. He watched the brass door gently shut behind her, watched it settle into place, the quiet click of the lock engaging and echoing through the ballroom.

He knew what he might see if he looked to familiar faces to guide him through this broadsided pain- he imagined anguish and confusion, but feared solace and understanding, so his gaze stayed true, focusing only on her vanishing point. Booth didn't dare raise his eyes, he couldn't bear to look at Hannah, not fearful of what he might read on her face, but terrified of what she would read on his.

Hannah had seen the joy at being a father written across his smile, the ecstasy of their love reflected in the moonlit shadows of his eyes, and the grief of losing a friend etched into the lines of his forehead, but she had yet to see the anger that boiled within his soul.

Truth be told, she knew nothing of his past. Sure, she knew the important things, she knew where he was from, she knew he had a son, and she knew he had a partner, but, he realized, nothing he had ever told her was deeper than the surface, nothing she knew could prepare her for the fire that burned inside of him.

He had told her stories, on occasion, of growing up in Philly with Pops, but only after too many beers in a too hot desert. He had foregone his true identity, raised in Pittsburgh, the son of an abusive alcoholic, with a mother who didn't care enough to take him with her when she left. She had laughed at the appropriate times, and waggled her eyebrows at his questionable teenage morality, and it all felt so easy to ignore the truth.

She matched his grin remembering Parker's first goal, and nodded her head in agreement when he decided his kid might just be the first science fair winning quarterback, but he never gave her a chance to shed shared tears over a serial killer's threats or any of their missed Christmases together.

And he certainly had never told her the truth when it came to Bones. He had spoken, briefly, _about_ her, but he never spoke about _her_. He bragged about her intelligence, her skill, her drive, but that was as far as the conversations extended, after all, she was nothing more than his partner. Hannah had listened with bated breath when he described car chases and kidnappings, and in complete awe when he made sense of murders and murderers, and so the lie had been easy to maintain. But Bones, with her passion for the truth, had destroyed his carefully constructed facade in a few simple words, the lowest blow imaginable.

He had, in his life, taken enough beatings to recognize a cheap shot. There were the faceless tormentors that haunted his nightmares, always remembered in the morning's light when his feet first met the hardwood floor. There were the days he caught his reflection in the mirror, with bleary eyes from too little sleep, that he worried he was aging to resemble the one face he couldn't forget. And there were the unintentional jabs, over the years, that would echo through his mind... _I just never figured you being in a relationship_... _if you're not helpless, then why did you sleep with her?_... (I need Parker to know I lead a full and rewarding life) _But you don't_...

He kept his eyes on the door, the only way he could save face, but he allowed his hands to clench at his sides. And he knew, he knew what his choice would be. When faced with the decision, _fight or flight_, his choice never wavered, but when he marched out that door and demanded an explanation from her, he had no way of knowing what her choice would be.

**A/N:** So I promise, I pinky promise, that the next chapter will contain the long awaited B&B confrontation, hopefully you'll let me know that you're still interested!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I really can't thank you all enough for your insightful reviews and the constant story alert alerts that are blowing up my Blackberry! Thank you so much for expressing your interest in this story- knowing you are expecting something amazing is challenging me to write something that (hopefully) doesn't disappoint. As a heads up, this chapter jumps between a _couple_ of people's pov, betcha can't guess who... and, you are forewarned, it's not going in the direction that most of you have imagined.

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Her body, still on high alert from amassed adrenaline, registered the sights, sounds, and smells of the city night with violating clarity.

She felt the chill of the late November air caress her bare legs like an experienced lover.

She heard a distant car honk as loud as the cry of a late night companion's ecstasy.

And she saw the empty streets as a painful reminder that she was without a _partner_.

_I'm the only one living the life I expected._

She was truly alone.

Until, she wasn't.

She registered the heat of his body behind her, close enough to warm her, but not enough to set her ablaze. His unique scent, an earthy spice that she had never been able to place, declaring his proximity. But it was the sound of her name, her _first_ name, laced with sweet supplication, that brought them into both a familiar and foreign position- face to face, chest to chest, heart to heart.

Without meeting his eyes, she whispered, "I'm fine".

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_Fine?_

_She was fine?_

_For seven years he had taught her how to feel; how to savor joy, how to endure pain, how to accept love, and, after scarring him with her words, she felt 'fine'._

He accepted long ago, that tact wasn't a concept she was familiar with, but she had never wavered in her deliverance. She had looked him dead in the eyes when she insulted his faith or questioned the sanity of parenthood, and it had always been a direct hit, but this, this was the shot of a true professional. If Booth knew anything, he knew a sniper's mission was to aim, shoot, and kill, and so he found himself at her mercy.

_This is what it's come down to, _he thought, _a clandestine meeting under the stars, _so incredibly askew from anything he'd ever imagined. And so he said her name like a prayer, begging her to face him, hoping to keep his hands from finding some semblance of comfort in the small of her back.

And when she turned to face him, and wouldn't even look him in the eye, he knew how thin the line between love and hate sat. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to remind her of the passion they were capable of igniting in one another, the fire she was still able to light in the veins that bubbled beneath his skin, and so, he attacked.

"What you wrote- what you chose to tell the world, our friends, about our relationship- that's unforgivable. You have something to say, Dr. Brennan? Try and say it to my face.. because, 'ya know what? For all the fight you have in you, we both _know_ all you're capable of is running away."

He paused, then, at the tears streaming down her face, hating her, as much as he hated hurting her, but he continued.

"At the end of the day, the words you chose to tell... when I walk away, Bones, just know that it's because you pushed me away. If you don't know by now, that what we had is the forever kind of love, then maybe you're just incapable of feeling... anything".

Nothing she could do could stop the onslaught of his rage, and hearing the hate he spat at her, she realized nothing else could possibly feel so impossibly wrong.

She spotted a taxi in the distance, running as fast as four inch stilettos allowed. She was halfway across the street when her shoe caught on a cobblestone, sending her slamming into the ground, and, while her distal radius blocked the severity of the blow, she hadn't had time to swallow her words.

"Forever doesn't end," she choked out as she fell, the force of the blow sending her teeth through her lip, and causing blood to pour from her mouth.

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No matter how difficult the story, Hannah prided herself on finding the truth. No matter how deeply and purposefully it was buried, she would unearth it, dust off the lies, and present it to the world as fact. If she ever strayed from her true love of journalism, she might have followed her mother's dying wish and become a teacher, but, no matter her career, she would always have known how to read between the lines.

In close to a year of knowing him, he had told countless tales from his past, but, it seemed, the silence that surrounded Seeley Booth communicated more than his words ever could. A grandfather who raised him, with no mention of his parents. A son whom he adored, with no mention of his mother. And a partner that he trusted, with no mention of a wife.

The censored life that he had presented her with made Hannah acutely aware of any change in his affect, and, next to him in that ballroom, she felt him vibrate with barely contained emotion. So, when she barreled out the door and into the inky night, she found herself disgusted with the scene playing out in front of her eyes.

Temperance, lying bloodied in the street, tear tracks marring the porcelain of her skin.

Seeley, towering over her, struggling to catch his breath.

Dripping with accusation, she screamed out into the night, "Seeley! What have you done?".

And, for three different reasons, in three separate minds, three intricately linked individuals repeated the same thought... _what had he done?_

**A/N:** So, here's the deal. I totally agree with *everyone's* hatred at Booth's unboothy behavior, but Brennan isn't innocent here either. Nothing is going to change the damage left behind from the 100th episode until both parties accept blame, and air it all out there... this is just my way of trying to get to that point. Only time will tell if you guys think I'm doing justice to this storyline... in any case, I wish you all a happy Thanksgiving- please join me in consuming mass amounts of Tofurkey! Just so you know, I'm extremely thankful for all of your opinions, and would continue to appreciate any reviews you might have. See you soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I'm so sorry that I haven't updated sooner, and, I'll apologize right now for the brevity of this chapter. Thank you all so much for your reviews and author/story alerts, it really means so much to me aka feel free to keep them coming!

**B&B**

Booth had seen some sickening things in his life, hell, he had even perpetuated some sickening acts, but the sight of his partner running away, _from him,_ was truly nauseating. After leaving the army, he had spent his time atoning for the lives he had taken by catching killers. He had spent the last nine years proving to himself that he was man enough to be the best possible father to Parker. And, for the last seven years, he had lived to keep Bones safe.

_You, you thought you were protecting me, but you're the one who needs protecting...from me! I don't have your kind of open heart._

He felt the bile rise in his throat, felt the acid burn within his chest, and, he knew, he would never find penance for this transgression.

_Maybe you're just incapable of feeling... anything__, _his words replaying in his mind, _all you're capable of is running away._

_Dictum vel factum vel concupitum contra legem æternam, _Booth let it echo in his mind, _something said, done, or desired contrary to the eternal law... a mortal sin._

He watched her run, _from him_, and then, he watched her fall.

**B&B**

"Seeley! What have you done?"

Booth hadn't meant to take his eyes off of Brennan, but Hannah had always proven to be distracting. And when she began her accusations, Booth refused to contradict her assumption, because, for all intents and purposes, Bones was bloodied and broken at his feet because of him.

"Answer me, Seeley, what have you done?"

He wanted to confess his sins, he wanted to reconcile himself with God, but, at that moment, it was so much more important that he prove his contrition to _her_, but when he moved his eyes back down to where she lay, she was gone.

The slam of the taxi's door brought him to his senses, his eyes connecting with hers through the back window, and, as he realized they had lived this moment before, he wondered if they ever would again.

Booth immediately raced toward the Sequoia, almost ripping the F.B.I.'s transmitter out of the dashboard.

"Dispatch, 22-7-0-5."

"22-7-0-5, Dispatch."

"22-7-0-5 requesting the destination of Capitol Cab Company's vehicle Charlie-Bravo-7-1-5."

Booth loosened his tie, anxiously awaiting the response.

"Dispatch, 22-7-0-5... Capitol Cab confirms two destinations for vehicle Charlie-Bravo-7-1-5. The first is a residential address, the second is Dulles International Airport."

"Dispatch, 22-7-0-5, do you copy?" _Silence_. "Dispatch, 22-7-0-5, I repeat, do you copy?"

While Brennan slipped lower into the taxi's backseat, silently cataloging _all_ of her injuries, Booth silently slipped into catatonia.

**As always, please let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Thank you thank you thank you to everyone taking the time out to review and alert this story!

_Paralysis_. A loss of voluntary movement in a body part; a state of stoppage, inactivity, or inability to act.

**B&B**

The abrupt return to military life had stirred memories Booth had long forgotten. There was the first time he ran his hands across his newly shorn hair, the first boudoir photograph he received from a girl back in Philly, the first shot he took to kill, and the first nightmare that plagued him when the deed was done.

When he had returned stateside his hair had grown back, and he had stopped settling for naked pictures, but the nightmares had only intensified. In the subsequent years following his tours in Iraq, Kosovo, and Somalia, Booth's unconscious mind tormented him with true recollections of his torture, and distorted flashbacks to the deaths of friends and enemies alike.

Over the years, while the nightmares had never faded, they were fewer in number, and often interspersed between dreams of his son, and fantasies of his partner.

His first night back on base, alone, and in the desert, his nighttime terrors returned.

While the idea of war hadn't changed much since his early twenties, technology had, leaving Booth and his men spending just as much time running drills as learning to identify IEDs. It only took a single misstep to maim or kill a man, leaving Booth anxious throughout the day, and terrified throughout the night.

_Bomb blasts. Black smoke. Metallic taste of blood. Mangled bodies._

He had heard of the phantom limb phenomenon for years, but it had never manifested in his nightmares until he was surrounded by the constant threat of losing an appendage, or so he thought. Men and women, after becoming paralyzed or suffering the loss of a limb, could feel their missing extremity as though it were still attached, an emotionally and physically painful reminder that they were no longer whole.

After leaving a part of his heart on the steps of the Hoover, Booth's sleeping mind capitalized on his fear that he would never _feel_ whole again. Fingers with gentle pressure at the small of her back, knees tolerably touching while sharing coffee... his subconscious proving with stunning clarity just how much he longed to _touch_ her.

She had returned to him, and he was unharmed, yet the nightmares continued. And now he might never have the chance to touch her again. He couldn't move, he couldn't think. He was paralyzed.

**B&B**

She was practically screaming, but he was deaf to the noise. She shook his shoulders, even slapped him across the face, and still, Booth did nothing. A vacant look in his eyes, a single tear on his cheek, Booth was lost to her, but when Hannah said _her_ name, he was found.

"Bones. I have to get to her before... the south of France, she had said something about... no, maybe Ecuador. Or was it El Salvador? She mentioned the Balkans... and Bangladesh..."

Hannah began slowly at first, her voice dripping with unsaid accusations, but then her words became frantic.

"Seeley, what the hell is wrong with you? Aggression, catatonic behavior, incessant ramblings. We need to get you to a doctor, what if you're brain tumor... listen to me, this is _important_-"

"_I'm_ not important. _You're_ not important. _She's _important. She's the only thing that's important."

Without another word, Booth raced out of the alleyway and into the night, his disjointed thoughts only connected by _her_.

**A/N:** So, the next chapter is almost done (I wanted to give you guys _something_), and should **hopefully** be up tomorrow night, but please let me know what you thought of this.

p.s. So long, Hannah! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I'm sorry this took longer than anticipated to post, I hope you like it!

He saw it from a full block away, a beacon in the night, the lighthouse guiding him home.

As he approached, he realized the engine was idling and the backseat was empty. He had proven fast enough to catch her, but would he prove strong enough to hold her?

"Sorry, bud, I already got a fare, and she's a real piece, this girl. Wouldn't trade a nice long look at her legs for whateva cash you got on ya," the driver laughed through the barely opened window, his breath fogging the glass.

But this man wasn't important. What he said, no matter how inappropriate, it just wasn't important.

_She's important. She's the only thing that's important._

**B&B**

She had been washing her face, washing away the physical reminders of the evening, her eyeliner, her blush, her own blood, when she began to cry. What started as a solitary tear inking a black line of mascara down her cheek turned into a tidal wave of emotion. Gut wrenching sobs produced waves of tears that ran like rivers from her tightly clenched eyes, their raging currents too strong to survive. She curled into a ball on the floor, blood still dripping from her lips, and allowed her pain to devour her.

**B&B**

He took the stairs, two at a time, begging his body to move faster, and then, finally, he was at her door. His hands were shaking wildly as he struggled to open the lock, his grip unyielding as he turned the knob. He barreled through the door, and, immediately, he stilled. Half empty wine bottles littered the counters, a light layer of dust had settled atop her dining room table, it was far from chaos, but, in Booth's eyes, it screamed anarchy. Brennan prided herself on maintaining order, and everything around her was in disarray. How little time had he spent with her that he hadn't noticed her _change_?

As the blood pounding in his ears lessened, he heard the sound of running water from the back of her apartment. He moved towards it, somewhat hesitantly, suddenly scared of what he might find.

And what he saw broke his heart.

Curled into a ball on the floor of the bathroom, his gaze ghosting across her back, she looked smaller than he remembered. His eyes had been busier in the last few months, tracing the curve of another woman's breasts. Had he ignored her shrinking frame, or had he just failed to notice? Either way, he had failed her, and as he fell to his knees, his own tears began to fall.

**B&B**

Her breathing began to slow, her tremors began to fade, her eyes began to focus, but her thoughts remained cloudy. The build up and release of her anxiety, the pain from her fall, the accompanying blood loss, the breakdown, she understood her body would need time to heal, but, if she were to survive any of this mess, she would need the only thing that had never let her down, her mind.

It terrified her, then, when she realized that her lucidity was shaken. She had stopped crying minutes before, but she could still hear the sobbing, the gasps for air, the quieter weeping. She rolled onto her back, her eyes tightly clenched, silently begging her brain to gain purchase on what was real and what was imagined.

She took inventory of her senses, allowed herself to taste the salt of her tears, smell the lavendar scent of her soap, feel the chill in the air. When the cries disappeared and she heard the expected silence, she opened her eyes and all she was _him_.

**They're (finally) face to face again.. no avoiding an encounter this time, right? I'm almost done with the next chapter, so please review your amazing little hearts out to help further along the process!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I can't exactly apologize, because every writer out there has _ (holiday plans, family in town, broken computer, finals... take your pick), and while I totally get distracted by all things shiny, my slow writing is a mixture of everything as well as being totally drained from Brennan's admission and Booth's un Boothyness. Basically, I'm veryveryveryvery sorry for not updating sooner.

**B&B**

_...she opened her eyes, and all she saw was him._

He was on top of her, suddenly. His strong legs bent and grazing her supple thighs, his chest pressed against hers from his labored breathing. As one hand caressed her cheek, one dug into her hair, his now coal eyes never losing purchase on the blue of hers. He was whispering her name like a prayer, her first name, and everything about the scene screamed of shared fantasies, after all, she was begging him.

**B&B**

It was both familiar and foreign at the same time. Their bodies pressed against one another, their eyes locked, the world around them disappearing into nothing more than the sum of their parts. Thoughts like these had helped her survive many lonely nights in the Indonesian jungle. She would be consumed by him, and she would writhe beneath him, and she would scream for him, and she would pull him closer...

yet, she was pushing him away.

And she was begging, and she was screaming, but it was for him to, "please, please, please... stop!"

He crawled off of her, immediately retreating to the furthest corner of the bathroom. His intention had been to see if she was okay, to provide her comfort. His hands lovingly touching her body seemed to move on their own accord, to prove to him that nothing could hurt her, and while, to an outsider, his body pressing hers into the cool tile floors might have screamed sexuality, he knew they had been able to generate more tension sipping coffee in the diner.

He was disgusted with himself, at how easily he thought he could have everything he had ever wanted. It seemed as though he could never keep her physically safe without causing her emotional harm.

He hung his head in shame, waiting for what he knew was inevitable... Bones telling him to leave, and meaning it.

**B&B**

Since their first meeting, Booth had been able to incite more feeling within Brennan than any human or remain that she had encountered. At the beginning, he made her feel drunk on passion, and, quickly enough, burning with anger. Over the course of their partnership, he had instilled happiness, comfort, frivolity. He had shown her love, and, over the past few months, had shown her heartbreak, she had been scared for him, but, never, in seven years, had he ever made her feel this weak.

Following the disappearance of her parents, Brennan had never allowed anyone to see her how Russ had seen her those first few months. She had vowed to never be emotionally unstable or dependent as long as she lived. She lost herself in science, shielding herself from the harm that believing in anyone other than herself might bring. With Booth's influence, Brennan had found herself buried deep beneath fears of abandonment and unwillingness to connect, he had found the woman she was supposed to be. And, at the moment, she _hated_ that woman.

All _that_ woman seemed to long for was Booth, and all Brennan longed for was to slap him across his zygomatic and _shoe_ him in the mandible. She was angrier than she had been in a long time. She felt displeasure at Hannah's constant presence, resentment from Booth ignoring her, annoyance at his ease in falling in and out of love, irritation that he had witnessed her emotional breakdown, and total infuriation that his physical proximity stirred such incredible passion within her.

She was disgusted with herself, at how easily she thought she could have everything she had ever wanted. It seemed as though she could never keep from emotional damaging him, so she hoped to end things before they got worse.

"Booth, just... leave."

**A/N 2: **I hope it came across clearly that Brennan didn't find anything pervish about Booth being on top of her- I don't see it as OOC for either of them. I just imagine Booth needing to comfort her as closely as possible, and Brennan not being scared of him (he _kinda sorta_ is still Booth, ya know?) And I liked the parallel thoughts that they continue to share- in the end, they're both consumed with the other's physical/emotional well being (isn't that why Brennan said no in the first place?).

Please tell me you got that Brennan wanted to sock him in the mandible.. sometimes it's confusing writing Brennan's internal popculturalish mistakes because Booth isn't in her head to fix them. Let me know if you're still liking it!


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